


Taken Down A Peg

by Jenetica



Series: The Heisenberg Anthology [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lydia Martin, F/M, Oral Sex, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, so lydia shows him how cocky is done, stiles gets a little cocky, yeah that was a shitty pun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenetica/pseuds/Jenetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thought he could get away with being a little shit around Lydia.</p><p>He was wrong. </p><p>Third story in the Heisenberg Anthology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taken Down A Peg

**Author's Note:**

> You don't even want to see my browser history right now. My research for this fic was crazy.
> 
> Un-beta'd. 
> 
> If you're the type that likes relevant songs, I vacillated between Katy Perry's "Roar" and Eve's "Eve" when I wrote this. Any female empowerment songs will do, though.

Lydia Martin frowned at her reflection in the tiny mirror stuck to the inside of her locker, rubbing at the edge of a purple mark peeking out of her shirt collar. She hadn't noticed it the night before; then again, she hadn't noticed much outside of Stiles massaging a vibrator between her legs until she lost coherence. And really, could she be blamed for that?  
  
Luckily for her, Lydia always carried a tube of Kat Von D tattoo concealer in her purse, just for these types of situations. She pulled out the tube and dabbed concealer on her neck, patting away the cream until it blended with the rest of her neck.  
  
"Sorry 'bout that," Stiles said from behind her. Lydia could see him in the mirror, and he was grinning like a loon. Actually, subtract the 'like': he *was* a loon.  
  
"No you aren't," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. She packed the tube away, pulling out her lipgloss. Behind her, Stiles shrugged unapologetically.  
  
"Nope, not even a little bit. But really," he said, leaning in closer, "can you blame me? Seeing you all marked up, having to hide my hickeys at school, it's so hot."  
  
Lydia blushed, the bruise on her neck tingling. "Nice to know you're above turning into a caveman in the sack, Stilinski. If I'd wanted to be bitten to Hell, I'd have dated a werewolf."  
  
But she had dated a werewolf. And she wasn't dating Stiles, not really. Oh, no, that was awkward. Lydia pursed her lips together to rub in the lipgloss, fighting back an apology.  
  
"And yet, here you are," Stiles noted, seemingly unruffled. "Hiding my artful love-bites under a layer of makeup. Nary a werewolf in sight. Gotta say, you're kind of doing wonders for my ego, right now."  
  
"Go away, Stiles," Lydia said, rolling her eyes. She closed her locker, turning to face him. "I have AP Government to get to."  
  
"Of course, milady," Stiles exclaimed, falling to a deep, melodramatic bow. Lydia leaned against her locker, affecting an unimpressed glare. Inside, she was rolling her eyes and giggling like some idiot schoolgirl. She'd been treated like many things in her lifetime, from snob to almighty queen to naïve child, but no one had ever made her feel like an honest-to-God princess before. And Stiles, well… he did it perfectly. He straightened, smile widening when he took in her expression. He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder and moved to walk past her. "Oh," he whispered as he was passing, "and I think we can both agree that in the sack? I'm no caveman."  
  
He strode away, leaving a blinking, open-mouthed Lydia in his wake. What? Had he just...? When had he gotten so cocky? Had she allowed that? Lydia shut her mouth, realizing how strange she must have looked floundering after Stiles Stilinski, of all people, and walked to AP Government. They were discussing the cycles of the fiscal year this period, a process Lydia had memorized when she was ten. No matter, this gave her time to think.  
  
They'd worked through a few more things on that list of Stiles', but usually their meetings ended in plain old intercourse. That wasn't to say that the sex was _bad_ , oh, hell no. They'd tried it in several positions, only two of which ended up being anatomically impossible. Their sex life, or whatever it was called, was not bereft of excitement. Excitement that had, apparently, gone to Stiles' head. On one hand, Lydia was impressed that he'd held onto his humility for so long; she _did_ scream his name, oh, what, three times last week? Maybe four? On the other hand, the very last thing Lydia wanted was an egotistical lover. She'd had enough of those in her sixteen years, thanks. No, she needed to get Stiles back down to Earth, somehow. He needed to be taken down a peg.  
  
And just like that, it hit her. Throwing a glance at the teacher, who was too busy scrawling on the whiteboard to notice, Lydia pulled out her phone and brought up a digitized copy of the List. Stiles had put it in Google Docs, ostensibly so she could add things she was interested in, should she come up with anything he hadn't already covered. Lydia doubted she would ever come up with something he hadn't considered but, hey, she wasn't about to point out her lack of creativity.  
  
She found the entry she was looking for and read it quickly. She'd need to do some after-school shopping, but she would gladly sacrifice that cute top from Forever 21 for this. She put her phone away and neatly wrote a line of notes about the Congressional Budget and Impoundment Control Act of 1974, drawing a smug little smiley face in the margin. Oh, this was going to be _fun_.  
  
Her next 'meeting' (because what the fuck else was she supposed to call it?) with Stiles was on Friday, and it was Tuesday. She'd go to the sex shop tonight and get the supplies, which would give her two afternoons to get used to them. The last thing she wanted to be was unskilled in front of Stiles. That was after all, the point of this whole endeavor.  
  
The school day passed by in a blur. Lydia faintly remembered talking to Allison about her training as a hunter, and for some reason the concept of mitochondrial DNA was clunking around in her headspace, but mostly she was focused on the idea of giving Stiles a taste of his own medicine.  
  
She chose to drive to the sex shop two towns over, as opposed to the one just off the highway, because it was cleaner, and there was less of a risk of seeing someone she knew. She'd hate to have anyone seeing her buying a strap-on. Oh, the rumors.  
  
The salesperson was a heavily tattooed guy with pink hair and dark green plugs in his ears. He'd been really helpful, though, helping her to understand just how all the buckles worked, and which dildo to buy to fit into the harness, so she tried not to judge him too harshly. He'd also recommended buying silicone-based lube over water-based lube because it lasted longer and wasn't harmful in anal sex the way it was in vaginal sex.  
  
Actually, he was a pretty cool guy. Lydia gave him a five-dollar tip for his help, and he'd given her the toothiest smile ever. "Lucky guy, you have there," he'd said when he was ringing her out.  
  
Boy, he didn't even _begin_ to know.  
  
Lydia took her goodies home, feeling like she'd always felt after shopping: like she'd just bought herself a load of Christmas presents, and they were waiting to be unwrapped. She had the presence of mind to hide the black and red bag in her oversized purse before entering the house; her parents were actually home, for a change, and she didn't want the questions.  
  
Once she got to her room, she locked her door and laid out her purchases on the bed, immediately picking up the dildo to test its weight. She'd picked a sparkly pink one, not because she particularly liked it, but because she couldn't wait to see Stiles' face when he saw it. She imagined it would be somewhere between shock, reproach, and begrudging amusement. Beautiful.  
  
The dildo was average-sized, chosen more for entertainment value than anything else, and it flared widely at the base to fit in the harness. She slotted it into place, tugging on the shaft to see how well the metal ring in the harness held it in place. Satisfied with the result, she examined the smaller, more bell-shaped dildo on the inside of the harness. It was supposed to go inside her when everything was in place, so she'd get something out of it when she fucked Stiles.  
  
 _When she fucked Stiles._ Honestly, Lydia thought maybe the very act would be enough to get her off, little dildo or not. But hey, she wasn't about to turn down some extra stimulation. No sirree.  
  
The silicone lube felt weird when Lydia rubbed it between her fingertips. She'd used a silicone-based face primer that felt similar, though this was less powdery. She smeared what was on her fingers on the skin above her knee. She wanted to see how long it would take to dry out, but she wanted her hands free to look through her other purchases.  
  
Lydia rarely (as in never) went to sex shops, so she splurged while she was there: the rest of her purchases were for personal use. The butterfly shaped vibrator was supposed to pack quite the punch, and it was pretty. Then, just because she could, she bought some sort of dildo-supreme device that did basically everything that could be done at once. The thick rod in the middle went in her vagina, then the thinner, bumpier rod went in her ass, and the little nubby bit opposite it rested on her clit, and it vibrated. Or something. It looked interesting, anyhow, and Lydia was a young, adventurous girl curious about interesting things.  
  
She set it aside, however, in favor of more useful activities. She took all of her clothes off, hanging up the skirt and throwing the rest in the hamper. The harness was an intimidating contraption of black nylon and buckles, but that didn't deter Lydia. She'd had an insane, power-hungry, dead werewolf pick at her brain, thank you very much. This was nothing compared to that.  
  
And actually, when she fit in onto her hips, it wasn't too bad. A strap went around each thigh, like a bikini, and one went around her waist. She tightened the straps and peered down at the pink, glittery penis now hanging heavily at the vee of her hips. Huh. This was what penises were like?  
  
Lydia gripped the base and stroked up, grimacing when her hand skidded over the rubber. Oh. Lube. Right. She squeezed some lube onto the dildo and started stroking again, much smoother now. She hated how good the angle was; no wonder guys were picky about handjobs. She fisted it for a few minutes, feeling the peculiar tug of the little dildo inside her. It wasn't particularly pleasant, but hey, this wasn't about her, anyway. She could deal.  
  
Once she got used to the way the dildo moved within its ring and how to compensate for the way the straps shifted on her hips, she took the strap-on off and cleaned the dildo of lube. The stuff was _way_ better than water-based lube, and Lydia couldn't wait to see it in action. She packed the strap-on and the lube back into the bag and put it into an inconspicuous drawer, pulling out her homework, instead. Time to spend some quality time with Walt Whitman.  
  
The next two days were validating, if nothing else. Stiles had fully turned into a little shit, sucking on pen caps and winking at her in the middle of Economics and brushing his hand on her ass as he walked by. Lydia had given him Glare #14, "Fuck off, barnacle," and #28, "If I had time for you, I would tell you how much time I don't have for you," but to no avail. She didn't let it bother her, though. He'd get what he deserved soon enough.  
  
Friday afternoon found Lydia a mass of nerves and vindictive anticipation. Stiles had been shooting her heated smirks all day, purposefully ordering nachos at lunch to lick cheese seductively off his fingers. It really spoke to Lydia's libido that, under the righteous indignation, she was actually a little turned on by it. Stupid fucking Stiles, getting her hot and bothered with plastic cheese product, of all things.  
  
Lydia's hands were shaking when she opened the door at seven sharp, tamping down on her anxiety. She smile she gave Stiles was cool and expectant, and he responded be giving her a wide, breathless grin.  
  
"Hi, Lydia," he said, bending down to peck her on the cheek. "How was your week?"  
  
Lydia blinked at him owlishly, thrown. "Um, fine?"  
  
"Really?" Stiles asked, stepping into the house and closing the door behind himself. As soon as the lock clicked into place, he was on her like a starfish, head tucked into her neck. "Because mine's been _torture_. All I can think about is how gorgeous you look under me. Over me. Everywhere. God, Lyds, you drive me nuts."  
  
Lydia felt something heave in her chest. She brought her hands up to card through his hair. "I know the feeling." Because all jokes and exasperation aside, Stiles was getting under her skin in a big way, pumping her full of something that tasted like burnt, thick sugar and smelled like Valentine's Day chocolates. Lydia was drowning in Stiles, and she loved it.  
  
Stiles stilled, then his hands changed directions on her back, one scooping down to her ass and the other up into her hair. "Do you, now? And how does it feel, Ms. Martin?"  
  
Oh, and there was the smarmy little imp that had been harassing her in school. Lydia's lips curled into a devilish smile, out of Stiles' line of sight, and she leaned her weight into his hold. "Oh, I'm not sure I can even explain it, Stiles," she sighed woefully. "Maybe I should just show you, instead."  
  
"I think I could get behind that," he agreed, pulling back. "Maybe even literally." He leered down at her, eyes dancing with mirth. Lydia snorted despite herself.  
  
"Classy, Stilinski. Remind me why I agreed to have sex with you?"  
  
"Is that a request or an invitation?" His hands fell to her hips, thumbs rubbing lazy circles into her hipbones.  
  
Lydia pursed her lips, whether to fight a grin or a scowl, no one may ever know. "Let's take this to the bedroom," she suggested. "I have a surprise for you."  
  
"A surprise?" Stiles grinned. "Lead the way."  
  
She climbed the stairs to her room, hips swaying, nerves forgotten. This was going to be so much _fun_. She opened the door to her room, watching Stiles leap onto the bed. "Close your eyes and take off your clothes," she ordered, unbuttoning her blouse. Stiles inhaled sharply, eyes falling shut as he peeled off his shirts and shucked his pants. He was already half-hard, boxers just beginning to tent.  
  
"Can I open my eyes yet?"  
  
"Not yet, no," Lydia replied, opening the drawer and pulling out her bag of tricks. She slid the strap-on into place, tightening the buckles with confident, practiced accuracy. "I thought we'd try something different today. You have so many fascinating things on that list of yours."  
  
Stiles twitched in his boxers, fists clenched on the edge of the bed. "Can I ask which one?"  
  
"Open your eyes."  
  
Stiles blinked them open, freezing when they landed on the dildo. Lydia stroked it slowly, delighting in the way a ruddy blush worked up his chest.  
  
"Oh," he said, sounding faintly disappointed. "I thought…."  
  
"You thought you could tease me all week at school and get away with it," she supplied, baring her teeth when he flinched. "You forgot who you were talking to, didn't you? Lydia Martin doesn't take kindly to being groped in hallways. What do you think of my cock, Stiles? I picked it out special, just for you."  
  
Stiles shuddered, head bowing in supplication. "Tell me what to do," he said, voice hoarse.  
  
"Answer the question."  
  
"It's, uh," Stiles stammered, glancing up at it, "it's very… pretty?"  
  
"Damn straight, it is," she growled, striding toward the bed in long, slow steps. "What are you going to do with such a pretty cock, Stiles?" And wow, where was this coming from? She was just supposed to fuck him and get it over with. This aggression was all new, but Lydia would be lying if she said it didn't feel good. And, judging by the way Stiles had fully hardened in his boxers, she'd say the feeling was mutual.  
  
"Can I suck it?" he asked meekly, eyes pointedly not meeting hers. A total display of submission. Lydia approved. She moved to stand in front of him. Damn their difference in height; sitting down, his head was at her ribcage.  
  
"On your knees," she commanded. Even then, his head was still at her belly button. Good enough. She positioned the cock at his lips, quirking an eyebrow at him. Stiles groaned, reaching out to suck the head into his mouth. He bobbed his head, working deeper down her shaft each time. Lydia bit her lip, feeling a hot wave of arousal work down her spine. He looked beautiful, cheeks hollowed around the length of pink, sparkly rubber. Her hand left the base to cup the back of his head, and his hand took its place. He pulled back to suckle at the head, eyes looking up at her heatedly. Fuck.  
  
"So pretty," Lydia sighed, hand petting the hair on the nape of his neck. "I can see why boys like this so much." Stiles' eyes fluttered shut, lashes long against his cheekbones. "What do you think, Stiles? Do you like sucking cock?"  
  
Stiles moaned, sucking as deep as he could go. When his eyes mets hers again, they were desperate. His free hand moved to his own cock, pulling it out of the gape of his underwear.  
  
Lydia froze, pulling his head back by the grip in his hair. "Did I say you could touch yourself?" Stiles shot her a pleading look, but she was already pulling out of his mouth, dildo shiny with spit. "Naughty," she tsked. "Take them off, get on the bed. Hands and knees."  
  
He stumbled to do her bidding, cock dark red and angry-looking. Lydia picked up the lube from where she'd placed it on the nightstand and knelt behind him. The lube opened with a _snick_ that made Stiles jerk in surprise. Lydia spread the lube liberally on her fingers, reaching out to trace one over his hole, teasing. Stiles' mewled and pushed back, eager. Lydia felt another gush of heat between her legs, pushing the finger in slowly. She worked the finger in and out, curling it down to find his prostate. She found it on the fourth try, judging by the way he keened and clenched around her.  
  
The second finger met a little resistance, but Stiles had done his research because he breathed out slowly, relaxing his muscles. Lydia kissed the meat of his asscheek in praise, scissoring the fingers once she could. This was a lot more intimate than she'd expected it to be, working Stiles open like this. Strangely enough, she felt like the vulnerable one, like she had to do this right, she _had_ to make it good for him. The third finger was the hardest, Stiles whimpering and clenching around her.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, "but you need to do this. Just relax, Stiles. You can do this. I believe in you."  
  
Stiles heaved a great, shivering breath, but he relaxed. Lydia worked as slowly as she could, pushing against his rim more than thrusting in until he was loose enough to take her. She used more lube of her fingers, pushing them slowly into him until he took them all the way to the knuckle. She made sure to graze his prostate every few thrusts, only content when he was moving back to meet her thrust-for-thrust.  
  
"M'ready," he whispered, sounding wrecked. Lydia pressed a kiss to the small of his back in sympathy. "Want you."  
  
"Okay," she said softly, pulling her fingers out of him. She lubed up her cock quickly, pressing the tip to his rim. "You sure?"  
  
"Do it, Lydia," he said, wriggling his hips, "or I'll start bringing bananas to class."  
  
Lydia huffed out a laugh, rolling her eyes. Oh, Stiles. She held the cock firmly in one hand, pressing it carefully into him. His breath hitched and stopped, and he leaned into the intrusion. Lydia pressed another kiss to his back when the head slid in. "Doing so well, Stiles. So good."  
  
He nodded tightly, gesturing for her to continue. Lydia moved slowly, smoothly, until the base of the dildo was pressed against his ass. "Are you okay?" she asked, stroking over his hips.  
  
"Gimme a minute," he managed, shoulders locked with tension. She held her position, rubbing soothingly over his back and down his flanks. After a minute, he moved, shoulders relaxing. "Go slow, okay?"  
  
Lydia murmured an "okay" and pulled out an inch. She moved back in, starting a rhythm of tiny thrusts. She only lengthened them when he grew impatient and flailed a hand at her. She pulled out almost all the way, then shoved back in, gasping when the little dildo inside her moved over her g-spot.  
  
Stiles froze. "Please tell me you got the kind of strap-on with the dildo on the inside," he said.  
  
"Bet your sweet, sweet ass, I did," she replied, pinching said ass.  
  
Stiles shuddered again. "Move, Lydia. _Now_."  
  
Lydia began moving in earnest, grinding into him to feel the dildo rub against her clit. Oh, this was _divine_. Lydia shifted to the right a little, and Stiles loosed a high, whimpering moan. Lydia moved to hit that spot again, grinning when he choked out another moan. _Found you_ , she thought. She angled all of her thrusts to meet that spot, draping herself over his back to work a hand on his cock. He was hard as a rock and dripping precome, and he twitched under her touch.  
  
Stiles made a broken sound and worked his hips, thrusting back onto her cock and forward into her fist. Lydia felt the world spin; this was by far the hottest thing she'd ever done.  
  
Thirty seconds later, Stiles started babbling. "Fuck, Lydia, I'm gonna come. Shit, feel so perfect inside me, please, let me come, tell me I can come, please. I need you to say yes, please."  
  
Lydia sucked in a breath through her teeth. He wanted her to give him _permission_? Oh, _fuck_ yes. "Come for me, Stiles, wanna see you come around my cock," she commanded, voice deeper than she'd ever heard it. Stiles whimpered and he was coming, hips spasming. She watched his hole clench around her cock and felt yet another gush of heat, this one dripping down her thighs. She continued to move inside him until he gasped and pulled away. She pulled out slowly, groaning at the way his skin tugged around the length of her.  
  
Stile flipped onto his back as soon as he was free, fingers racing to undo the buckles. "Please, I wanna taste you," he pleaded. "You didn't come. I wanna make you come. Please let me."  
  
Lydia shoved the strap-on away, throwing it half-way across the room. "How do you want me, Stiles?" she asked.  
  
Stiles collapsed, rubbery, on the bed. "Sit on my face, Lyds."  
  
Fuck. She could do that. Lydia moved up until her knees bracketed his head and held herself over his face. Stiles closed his eyes, a pained look crossing his features. "Too beautiful," he whispered, kissing the dampness from her thighs, working up to her center.  
  
He licked into her delicately, mopping up all of her juices. She was hypersensitive and gasped into his teasing touches. Stiles slid his tongue inside her, curling it upwards. Lydia keened, grinding down onto his mouth before she could stop herself. She tried to pull off to apologize, but Stiles held her hips down, face blissful. Lydia ran her fingers through his hair, swiveling her hips over his mouth.  
  
"Need you on my clit," she gasped. Stiles hummed (and, okay, _wow_ ) and sucked her clit between his lips, sliding two fingers into her entrance. He licked and sucked at her, pushing her farther and farther closer to the edge, but it was the gentle nibble that finally pushed her over it. She screamed soundlessly, fingers scrambling for purchase on the bed. His hands kept her from falling off him as he licked her down from her orgasm. When she mewled in discomfort he pressed one last kiss to her clit before pulling away.  
  
Lydia collapsed next to him, thighs sore and blissed out.  
  
"Learn your lesson?" she asked him sleepily, eyes closed.  
  
"Mm," he replied. "Definitely. Might need reminding every once in a while, though."  
  
Lydia smiled and turned to look at him. He was smiling back at her, eyes soft and happy. The heavy feeling in her chest returned, and Lydia felt like she couldn't breathe. She leaned in and kissed him, ignoring the way he tasted like her. His own flavor was much sweeter. "I think we can manage that," she whispered against his lips.  
  
His hand tangled with hers and he brought it up to kiss her knuckles. "Good."  
  
When Lydia woke the next morning with strong forearms wrapped around her, she panicked for a moment before remembering who it was and relaxing into Stiles' embrace. She listened to make sure he was still sleeping, then brought up his hand to press a responding kiss to his knuckles. The heavy feeling in Lydia's chest broke, and she was awash in burnt sugar and chocolates. "Perfect."

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless promo for Kat Von D's Tattoo Concealer. That stuff is the bomb.


End file.
